Black, White and Red
by Broken Ghost
Summary: The events of Built to Kill shook Catherine to the core, and now she has to deal with the repercussions.  Will everything get better or will everything get worse?
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this has taken me a long time to get up the courage to post this! I'm still looking for a Beta, so if you are interested please tell me. If you see any mistakes in here please tell me. Reviews are greatly appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: I own a Spanish test, if anyone wants it; but sadly last time I looked I don't own CSI:Las Vegas

* * *

**

She pushed the door open, her fear shown in her rigid movements. Grissom had told her that he had wanted to see her and Hodge's unusually sympathetic face had given her a hint at why. Her perfectly manicured nails ran through her short bob, catching in knots but untying them and gliding through; like a bulldozer - exactly like the one that was going to destroy her life now.

"Have a seat." Grissom said.

Begrudgingly she lowered herself into the black padded chair and leaned back, the blackness contrasting sharply against her turquoise tank top, yet blending with her ironed black suit trousers. He sat in his chair opposite her, on the other side of the desk, and absent-mindedly began fiddling with a black biro, the plastic occasionally tapping on the desk.

"You wanted to see me because..." she said conservatively.

He leaned forward and put the biro on top of a blank pad of yellowish paper.

"I've tried to keep Ecklie out of the loop on what happened a few weeks ago, but unfortunately he has a way of worming into everywhere."

Catherine's hand froze midway through another nervous sweep of her bob.

"Damn it." she said, her voice catching in the back of her throat. Her voice came out weak and choked, which made her feel small, powerless, defeated.

"Hodge's unfortunately filed reports on everything you gave him." Grissom remarked as he began fiddling with a file. He pulled a sheet of paper out of the file and placed it in front of her. "Ecklie grabbed the tox report before anyone else could. You were drugged with rohypnol."

Catherine felt herself sink back in her chair, her hands continually sweeping through her hair. A date rape drug. Brilliant. Suddenly, she couldn't take it anymore and leapt out of the chair and walked to the window, hands continually sweeping through her hair.

"I still can't remember everything." she said, her back to him, eyes staring through the window to the lights of Las Vegas, and hands shaking with every word, betraying her seemingly calm exterior.

"You never told me the full story, only that you weren't raped. What actually happened?" Grissom asked, carefully weighing each word in his mind.

Catherine collapsed gently into the black padded chair, trying to resist the urge to curl her knees to her chest.

"I was at the bar. Someone drugged my drink and I was feeling dizzy - the world was spinning, my head hurt. I don't remember what happened, just woke up in a hotel room, naked and as confused as hell."Her hands were gripping the chair handles and she emphasized the word hell with a flick of her wrists. "I went to call it in, but just couldn't." she looked up at Grissom, eyes confused. "I made my own improvised rape kit, took nail scrapings, and used the tampon to..." her voice trailed off. "I took a shower, then called Sara and asked her to process the room, and asked her to keep it a secret." She took a picture out of her handbag and placed it on the desk. "Sam received this and came to the crime lab to check that I was okay, but only gave me the picture when he gave me the picture of Lindsey. I didn't want anyone to know."

Grissom picked up the picked and stared at the picture of Catherine naked, wrapped in sheets on a bed, with his mind reeling. Nobody knew what had happened, and probably never would. He put down the picture and began fiddling with his biro again.

"Do you remember everything?" he asked, trying to make more sense of the situation.

"Just black, white and red." Catherine said, her face confused, eyes staring into the distance. "Black hands."

Grissom stared at her. She had definitely been drugged, and the fact that she could remember some things actually made the situation worse.

"Unfortunately, we can't cover this one up. Ecklie already has his nose in this, and has taken a dislike to our team. You've been assaulted probably over three times, and Ecklie wanted to send you to therapy after the first, but I talked him out of it, he doesn't know about the second, and when he finds out about this," Grissom winced, "you are going to have to go to therapy. You really need to start reporting these things." Grissom sighed.

"Why?" Catherine demanded with her eyes flashing, "So Ecklie can have a field day and I can go to therapy?"

"No," said Grissom, his eyes burning holes in her mind, "So you can take care of yourself."

Catherine rolled her eyes and walked out of the office, but before she crossed the threshold she turned back. "Thanks for covering for me." she told Grissom.

She walked down the almost empty corridor of the crime lab, her black high heels clicking angrily on the polished floor and echoing through the corridor. The sound sounded lonely and cold in the silence, and it made her feel sad. The sound reminded her of what happened, and she was sure the sound was black, like the hands that roamed and violated. She had no memory, but she was sure that something had happened. Her hands still swept angrily through her hair as she stopped by her office to grab her jacket and bag. She just had to go home, go home see Lindsey, go home have a drink; then everything would be better - wouldn't it?

* * *

**I'd really love a review if you have time :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to CSIHuntermom, wendysam, connielover and Danielle (****anonymous) for reviewing! Also ****AutumnDoe, Busapan, connielover, CSIHuntermom and wendysam for adding this story to storyalert. ****Here's the next chapter...

* * *

**

Lindsey was waiting for her at the door, for once glad to see her. They sat down on the couch with a pint of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food (Lindsey's favourite) and watched a teen flick until it was time to go to bed. It had become a family ritual, whenever Catherine or Lindsey had a bad day, which was quite often. It had started two days after the kidnapping when Catherine had slouched exhausted on the couch and Lindsey had handed her a tub of ice cream and a spoon proclaiming that, "Ice cream fixes everything" before sitting down beside her with another spoon and digging in.

They had grown closer after the kidnapping, even though Catherine had insisted that she go see a counsellor. The counsellor had talked some sense into her and Lindsey now looked up to and trusted her mother. Lindsey had inherited her mother's dislike of talking about her feelings, but she really liked her counsellor, a twenty-something blonde part time yoga teacher, who she seemed to trust. She was making good progress, her school results were getting better and the trauma she experienced had barely affected her at all. She slept well at night and seemed to be like a normal teenager in Las Vegas, but special enough that her mum was proud of her.

She, on the other hand, was not bearing up quite so well. The ice cream, the time with her daughter and the fact that her daughter was happy was not quite enough. She woke up screaming in the night - just because there was no evidence of sexual assault or rape, it did not mean it didn't happen. She drank in the night, normally a shot or two of vodka or whiskey to help comfort her and send her to sleep. She woke up angry and confused in the mornings and had to use caffeine drinks, coffee or pain killers to help ease her confused, aching head and try to lift the fog from around her. The caffeine was becoming a problem – it helped clear the world, and that she did not want. The dull fog of pain killers helped her see the world differently, dulling the sharp edge of the knife of life, stopping her from being hurt.

The continuous stream of assault cases did not help her mood. In one week she had dealt with over three assaults, all easily solved with DNA testing and one kidnapping, which ended quite well. Sure, she felt good helping all those people get their lives back on track, but how come they got answers when she didn't? All she could remember from that night was a blur of black, white and grey with splatters of red reaching angrily into the distance; and for some reason she remembered hands, hands of black reaching out towards her. For some reason she was white, a sparkling, brilliant white that glowed throughout the room, yet there was still black, so much black, reaching towards her. Dark black drowning the white, whilst red laughed from the sidelines. _White is going to die tonight_, it whispered, _black is going to win._ The words shook through her in her dreams, dreams of few colours, and dreams of few thoughts; only '_white is going to die tonight'_ echoing through her mind.

What did it matter? Who cared? She was there to care for people, not the other way round. She was the bridge that was placed over the crevice for people to cross, the path that was laid through the fire for people to walk through. She was the jailer, the keeper, the fare collector, the bus driver: queen and pawn in a deadly game created by people, and things she could not see. People said they would try to protect her, that she could trust them and they would help her, but they couldn't help her. Nothing could help her, but the continuous fog of pain killers and the blur of shots that relieved the stress of the night.

The night was black, like her dreams, she thought as an empty shot glass sat in her hand, the dregs of her third shot of whiskey glimmering in the bottom, taunting her to have another shot. _Get drunk... _it whispered _feel the feeling that you are indestructible and perfect_. But she knew she would regret it in the morning, because facing Ecklie with a hangover would be like running the fifteen hundred meters with a slab of concrete on her back. Instead, she opted for the numbing fog of painkillers, and fell back into bed.

She stared at the ceiling, trying to tempt herself to sleep. The ceiling swirled in a seemingly endless mist, black and white shapes dancing in the fog. The white was a lighthouse, strong and proud, and the black was a storm, terrifying and large, yet the red didn't seem to fit. Perhaps it was a boat, lost in the storm. She scrunched her eyes up and stared fiercely at the ceiling, but didn't notice Lindsey standing in the doorway.

"Mom?" Lindsey asked.

Catherine turned and faced her daughter. Her daughter was white, a brilliant white, whiter than she ever was.

"Do you need anything honey?" Catherine asked, confused why she was up at such a late hour.

"Can I talk to you?" Lindsey asked.

Catherine smiled. It had been years since Lindsey had just wanted to talk with her. "Sure," She said, indicating that she should sit, and moving over so there was room. Lindsey curled up underneath the bed sheet next to her. Catherine stroked her hair and pulled her in close to her.

"Why did they take me?" Lindsey asked.

Catherine was afraid that this question was going to come and she still didn't have a complete answer, despite the many hours she had spent thinking about it. Lindsey knew Sam was dead, and Catherine didn't want to tell her that Sam was a thug in a thousand dollar shoes. She wanted her to remember him as a good grandfather, no matter how much of a bastard he was.

"Well," Catherine began, unsure where her mind would take her. "Sam dealt with a lot of bad people in his profession, and because of some of the decisions he made, some people lost a lot of money and they wanted revenge."

"And they used me to get to him." Lindsey said, her voice partially muffled by the white sheets.

Catherine wrapped her arms round her daughter. "And no one is ever going to hurt you again." She promised Lindsey. "I promise." She muttered.

"What did they do to you?" Lindsey asked.

Catherine nearly jumped the other side of the room in shock, but she managed not to, instead opting to hold Lindsey tighter.

"Nothing honey." She lied. "Nothing at all."

"Good." Said Lindsey, before getting out of the bed and going back to her room. "Night" she said without looking back.

"Night!" Catherine said after her. She curled up in the bed, knees to her chest, and let a few tears fall. It didn't help the black pit of fear in her stomach, or the swirling redness in her head.

* * *

**Please review :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank-you to CSIHuntermom and one tough cookie for reviewing, and to one tough cookie and jstapny for adding this story to story alert. I am on holiday until January now. The story is written but I just have to find the times when I am able to post it because my holiday has become a mess of beaches, domestic flights, car journeys and snow. Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

She woke up early as normal, still as tired as the night before, and tried to stop herself from  
automatically grabbing the packet of painkillers. She didn't have that much self restraint, and ended  
up taking another two. She stumbled out of bed, got dressed in the same clothes as yesterday and  
grabbed a cup of coffee. Lindsey warily watched her mum from the table, where she sat with a bowl  
of cereal.

"You should go see a doctor if you're ill." She remarked as Catherine walked to the bathroom to her  
hair and makeup.

"I'm not ill." Catherine shouted back.

"Yeah right." Lindsey muttered into her bowl of cereal. She glanced at her watch, swallowed the  
rest of her cereal in two bites, grabbed her rucksack and headed for the door. "I have to go to  
school! Bye mom!" she yelled back to Catherine.

"Have a good day!" Catherine yelled back. She heard the door shut and started brushing her hair.

Twenty minutes later she arrived at the crime lab, put her stuff in her locker and walked to the break  
room. She said hi to everyone before grabbing another cup of coffee and sitting down.

"So what are we doing today?" she asked.

"Actually," Sara said, "Ecklie wanted to see you in his office." Sara looked up at her sympathetically,  
knowing that Catherine was still shaken from what had happened.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Brilliant." She said as she walked towards the office. She knocked once  
and went in.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked, her tone guarded and her arms wrapped round her chest. She  
was a CSI who had been taught how to read body language and she knew wrapping her arms around  
herself was a sign of insecurity, but despite her better instincts, she kept her arms where they  
were. Ecklie offered her a seat and she took it as he sat opposite her on the other side of her desk,  
exactly the same as yesterday when she was having her 'chat' with Grissom yesterday.  
"Grissom told me what happened." Ecklie said, looking down at a file in front of him. "We have a  
counselling service and I'm making you attend until the counsellor says your mental health is good  
enough for the sessions to stop."

Catherine sighed, she had hoped that Ecklie would only make her go for a few sessions as the  
counsellor was never going to sign off on her in a million years and she would be stuck in therapy the  
rest of her career. A couple of hours wouldn't have been bad, she could cope with that, but now she  
was going to be stuck with sessions forever.

"How many hours a week?" she asked, trying to contain her anger.

"You need to fit her in for three hours a week, whenever you can make it." Ecklie said, a smirk  
playing on his face, "As you are one of the busiest CSI's I've given you the option on when your  
sessions are."

Catherine almost rolled her eyes. She didn't want a counsellor. She didn't need a counsellor. She  
didn't have time for a counsellor! When would people start getting that through their heads!

"Go see Megan now and sort out your times." Ecklie smiled like this was a good thing. Catherine  
scowled.

"Okay." She said reluctantly before walking out.

Megan. The name tasted strange in her mouth. It tasted like sand and sun, blonde and sporty,  
happy and perfect. She knew she was going to hate this Megan already; it was only a matter of time  
before she punched her. She walked down the corridor, high heels clicking angrily on the polished  
floor. The lab was filled with activity, and there was the buzzing sound of people hard at work. She  
looked straight ahead, down the corridor, but couldn't help seeing the blackness that lurked in the  
corners. She saw the letters on the door before she saw anything else. Big, white and bold: Doctor  
Megan Alyssia Ryan. Alyssia. The name sounded classy, important, and showy. Along with sport

babe Megan it fitted perfectly. She was going to punch her one day, she promised herself. She  
knocked on the door and waited for someone to respond. The person who opened the door fitted  
the image in her head perfectly. Dr Megan Alyssia Ryan was tall with long blonde hair, a perfect tan,  
big blue eyes fringed with the perfect amount of long lashes. She had earrings that were a rod of  
silver about four centimetres long, the perfect size, and she wore a black suit with a white blouse,  
all high end designer gear, with black high heels that made a softer click than Catherine's and were  
obviously Jimmy Choo's. She smiled wide, showing her perfect white teeth that looked like they had  
been put through a lot of bleaching, and beckoned for Catherine to come in.

"Come in. Come in!" she said happily. Catherine scowled. This was going to be a long, long day.

"I'm Catherine Willows." She said dryly, trying a keep her face void of any emotion.

"Oh!" Megan smiled. "You must be coming to book some appointments."

Catherine looked at her watch. She just wanted to get this over with. "I don't think I'm doing  
anything at the moment." She said, forcing a half smile on her face. "I can call Sara and see if we're  
lined up for anything."

"Perfect!" Megan smiled. Catherine definitely hated her. She smiled too much. She flipped open  
her cell phone and called Sara. They chatted for a minute until Catherine's fears were confirmed;  
there were no new cases that they needed her for.

"I can stay for a while." She told Megan.

* * *

**Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, I'm finally back and I hope you all forgive me for being so late. I'm still on holiday but now I'm staying with family in some of the southern states of the USA and now my holiday has become a mess of snow, over enthusiastic dogs, rednecks and pickup trucks; all served with a healthy side of beer and cornbread.**

**Thank you to connielover and CSIHuntermom for reviewing the last chapter and to autisticspider for adding this story to story alert.  
**

* * *

Megan was still smiling as she offered Catherine a coffee, Catherine agreed and Megan busied herself with the task. Catherine looked round the room and was struck by how simplistic the room was. The room had white walls, yellowish/grey carpet, a brown leather sofa and two brown leather chairs with a glass coffee table, a stylish metal and glass desk and a matching chair that sat slanted in the corner; with an iMac sitting atop the desk, surrounded by files and sheets of paper. A counter lined the back wall, with grey filing cabinets sitting underneath and a coffee machine and mini fridge, which Megan was using, sitting on top. Everything was meant to have a neat designer feel to it, but to Catherine it felt prison like – right down to the grey metal bin lined with a uniform black bin bag.

Megan turned round holding two mugs of black, strong smelling coffee and offered Catherine a seat. Catherine sat in one of the brown leather chairs because she didn't want Megan sitting right next to her on the couch and trying to hug her because she looked like the type who would. Megan sat opposite her in the other brown leather chair. She placed her coffee on a coaster on the coffee table, where as Catherine sat hunched in her chair gripping the mug with both hands, as Megan grabbed a pad of crisp white paper, a blue biro and Catherine's file off her desk. She started flipping through the file as Catherine took hesitant sips from her mug off coffee. The coffee tasted metallic, but was strong enough to keep her from dropping off in the comfortable chair.

"So," Megan said, "I haven't had a lot of time to go over your file, so tell me about yourself!"

Inside her head Catherine sighed, she hated it when this happened. "I'm the day shift supervisor, but always end up working a lot of over time especially at night." she said trying to give away as little as possible.

Megan's eyes flickered up and down her file, confirming what she had said, but also noticing the small amount of information Catherine had given her. She took her pad and made note of that. Inside her mind Catherine shuddered, this was worse than whispers, and it was like someone was talking about her behind her back as she couldn't tell what Megan was writing.

"You have a daughter, right?" Megan remarked.

Catherine nodded. "Lindsey." she told Megan.

"How is she?" Megan asked, a shimmer of concern in her eyes. Catherine noticed this and was surprised, counsellors were meant to care about people, but often it was fake, though for some reason the concern in Megan's eyes seemed genuine. Damn it she thought, she was already warming to Miss Stylish Sports Babe.

"She's fine." Catherine said, trying to draw herself away from Megan's piercing blue eyed gaze.

"Talking to someone?" Megan asked.

"Yes." Catherine told her.

"Who?" Megan asked.

"A counsellor." Catherine told her reluctantly, she really hated all these questions about her daughter. "Also me."

Megan smiled. She had read about what Lindsey had been through, and she knew it was going to be hard for both mother and daughter to recover; though she was also was surprised that Lindsey didn't blame her mother for what had happened.

"So, more about you." Megan said, looking up at her through those stupidly long lashes, her face hovering over the file. "What do you like to do for fun?"

Catherine thought about giving the standard, _drinking at the Highball_, but it caught in her throat, the Highball was where she was drugged, and she never wanted to go back there again. "I like spending time with my daughter." She told Megan.

Megan flashed a smile, showing her brilliant white teeth, before saying, "I heard you were the party animal of the group!"

"Not anymore." Catherine muttered under her breath, she couldn't take the risk, being drugged again.

"What was that?" Megan asked, for some reason seeming more sincere.

"Things change." Said Catherine as she swept her hair off her face, "I want to spend more time with my daughter."

"Or, maybe you don't want to take the risk of being drugged again." Megan stated.

"Excuse me?" Catherine asked, only this would be happening to her.

"Or, maybe you don't want to take the risk of being drugged again." Megan said again, adding more weight to the statement.

"Or, perhaps I'm tired of being the party girl." Catherine said.

"What actually happened at the bar that night" Megan asked.

Catherine looked up at Megan, cold fear flooding her blue eyes, hands gripping her coffee cup tighter and her shoulders hunching more.

"I was feeling dizzy," she began, studying Megan's reactions carefully, as if she was treading on thin ice and Megan was the ice, centimetres to and the only thing separating her from possible death. "Everyone had left, and I was by myself." Megan nodded, but then began taking notes which didn't help at all. "Then I don't remember anything at all."

Megan looked up, confused, her blue pen hovering over the white paper. "Nothing at all?"

"Nothing." Catherine lied, looking into her coffee mug.

Megan eyed her suspiciously, piercing blue eyes noting the hunched figure, the tight grip on the coffee mug, and the eyes that were fascinated by the slowly cooling black coffee. "You're lying." Megan stated.

Catherine sat up straight and looked Megan in the eye. "I was white," she began, her voice shaking, "A brilliant white, there was black hands that were reaching towards me and specks of red that didn't belong, and a back ground that was a greyish hue." She leaned back, feeling stupid - she sounded like she had been describing a painting, and it probably was a painting, one that she had painted in her head with pigments of her torn imagination. She set her coffee on a coaster on the table and watched as Megan wrote everything down.

"It's good that you remember something." Megan said reassuringly. Catherine rolled her eyes and the flood gates of her anger suddenly broke, and everything she had been hiding from Megan suddenly flooded out.

"No it's frickin not!" she said, aware that her voice had grown louder and that Megan was taken aback. "What I can't remember scares me, and these stupid flecks of memories are taunting me, not letting me shove my fear away, and lock it down inside me! Why the hell can't I remember?" She had leapt out her chair by now and crossed the room like the night before, hands sweeping at her hair, only pausing by the window.

Megan remained seated for a minute, trying to absorb what Catherine had said. She placed her pad of paper and pen on the coffee table before walking over to where Catherine stood and placing a hand on her shoulder. Catherine flinched at the light touch, reminding her of the black hands, but let Megan's palm remain where it was after a minute. Megan turned Catherine to face her and spoke, carefully choosing her words and weighing them in her mind.

"You can't remember because you were drugged." Megan said, as Catherine opened her mouth to say something, but Megan stopped her. "And you should also never lock things down inside you."

Catherine stared outside the window, eyes glazed but mind telling her not to cry. "It's what I have to do." She said. "It's what I have to do for myself and everyone else."

Megan gently took hold of her wrists and dragged her over to the sofa, forcing her to sit down before sitting next to her. "You need to look after yourself before anyone else." Megan told her. Catherine opened her mouth to say something but her cell phone rang before she could say anything. She flipped it open and talked for a few seconds before hanging up.

"Dead body." Catherine muttered as she walked away.

"You can come again tomorrow." Megan said brightly.

"Yeah..." said Catherine dejectedly.

She walked out the room, leaving Megan sitting on the couch.

* * *

**Please review :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**So I'm finally back in my own country after a holiday that could have been better... But now I am jetlagged and I have a cold and a week before I go back to school - the perfect time for writing. Hopefully this story will get back on track now I'm home :) Thank you to csi kris, Twiggy and connieLover for reviewing.  


* * *

**The case affected her more than most; a house full of shattered mirrors caused by the broken occupants – a family of four, a mother and her three kids. The mother was an exotic dancer and her boyfriend looked after the three kids, all from different fathers. The boyfriend was abusive, towards her and the kids, and the mother and one of the kids had ended up dead. The kid was the same age as Lindsey and looked similar too. She wondered if she would ever have end up like that if she had stayed with Eddie.

She walked through the house in a daze, thick swirling layers of fog clouding her mind; she was on auto pilot, collecting evidence, filling in forms and trying not to link the situation to herself. Words and sounds echoed in her head, reaching out towards her from the walls and brushing her as she walked through the dark rooms. When she was done she locked herself in her car, hugged her knees to her chest and cried. She couldn't stop herself from grabbing some more painkillers, even though she knew she shouldn't. Ironically it was raining outside, and she watched the delicate droplets create patterns on her car window. Her cell phone sat in her half closed hand and her other hand was wrapped around a cup of quickly cooling coffee, her hand seeking comfort in the smooth white cardboard surface.

Megan had arranged for her to have a counselling session the next day, and she knew already that it was going to be painful. Talking about her feelings didn't work, and she was a science person who took no interest in writing. She had no way of letting her feelings out without harming someone else, or her environment around her.

She slumped exhaustedly into the soft brown leather chair, embracing its comfort as she kicked off her sharp black high heels. She pulled her legs into her chest and burrowed her face into her knees trying the old trick of forcing tears back into her blue eyes. It didn't work and she felt useless and pathetic in front of the person she had vowed to never cry in front of. Megan just sat and didn't say anything, and Catherine was grateful - Megan trying to comfort her would damage her already broken exterior even more. Minutes passed by as Catherine tried to bury herself in fog whilst Megan tried to figure out what to say.

"The case upset you, didn't it?" Megan said eventually.

Catherine just sat and didn't say anything. She didn't look like she had acknowledged the question, but Megan knew she had.

"Do you want to tell me why?" Megan's asked.

Catherine took a deep breath before looking up at Megan and shaking her head.

"Why not?" Megan asked, blonde hair bobbing as she asked the question.

"Because." Said Catherine into her knees.

"You know you need to talk about things with me, otherwise you have to have more sessions." Megan said.

Catherine hated that sunny blonde voice. Always confident and in control, so she did something that she had been wanting to do for days.

"Screw you." She told Megan as she got up and walked out, hastily walking towards the women's bathroom.

She locked herself inside one of the stalls and promptly puked. Cursing herself as she wiped her mouth, she flushed, slammed the lid down and sat, drowning herself in more tears, and begging God for a break, or a bottle of whiskey.

As she curled her knees to her chest, she heard Megan's voice outside of the cubicle door.

"Open up Catherine." Said Megan, her voice tired and wearisome,

"Go to hell." Catherine replied in her typical fashion.

Megan sighed and Catherine could hear her moving to lean back against the posts between the toilet stalls. They both stayed silent. Finally Megan spoke up.

"The case upset you because it brought back memories and the realization that you did the right thing when you left Eddie."

Megan could almost hear Catherine flinching inside the stall, automatically recoiling from the words.

"Open up Catherine" Repeated Megan.

Catherine sighed and reluctantly unbolted the door. Megan was leaning against the opposite wall, her arms folded across her chest. She let Catherine wash her mouth out in the sink before making her follow her back to the therapy office. Instead of sitting down Catherine stood beside the door, begging her phone to ring.

"Sit down." Said Megan's voices. It was sharp and harsh, but Catherine stayed by the door.

They fought a battle with their eyes, sharp blue verses sad and empty blue. Commanding verses pleading.

Catherine's phone rang. She listened for a couple of seconds before shutting the phone, muttering her apologies, then slipping out of the door.

As she walked to Wendy's office she noticed how skinny her wrists had become. She needed to eat something before people started noticing.

Megan sat at her desk, her eyes flitting over Catherine's file, her mind wondering why Catherine hadn't cracked before she did.

Grissom sat at his desk; his eye's flitting over Catherine's case file, his mind wondering what the bastard was going to confess to doing to her. He hadn't admitted anything yet, and because he was in hospital his lawyer had insisted that he was not to be interrogated. Grissom clenched his jaw. He hated lawyers.

Catherine sat in her office, her eyes flitting over someone's case file, her mind wondering when all of this was going to stop. The whispers. The stares. The counselling. She glanced through the window before picking up her bag and coat and walking to her car, the file left open on her desk.

Warrick walked over to the desk and picked up the open file to put away. He hoped Catherine was going to be okay.

* * *

**Please review :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you to CSIHuntermom, connieLover and csi kris () for reviewing. Especially csi krs (), you gave me a lot to think about! Thank you to connieLover for adding this story to her favourite's list!**

* * *

"You don't have to do this." said Grissom for the umpteenth time.

Catherine rolled her eyes again. "I want to know."

"You don't need to." Grissom said. Catherine turned round and glared at him. He held his hands up as a gesture of surrender. "Okay."

They had identified the guy who kidnapped Lindsey and drugged Catherine as Mark Washington; and he had served time for sexual assault. Catherine had gritted her teeth when she had heard this. Brilliant. Mark was currently in interrogation with Brass, she and Grissom were behind the mirror.

Grissom had spoken to Brass before he had gone in. Catherine had over heard them. "Just get the facts: we know he kidnapped Lindsey, we just need to know what he did to Catherine." Grissom had told Brass.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Brass asked.

Grissom ducked his head. "He's served time for it."

Brass had nodded and walked inside.

Catherine watched as Brass carefully brushed down his jacket then sat down before Mark.

"We know what you did Mark." he said.

"You know the guy told me to do it!" Mark said.

"He's dead now, so why don't you fill us in?" Brass smiled.

Mark smiled back. "Gimme a deal and I might help you."

Brass sighed. Mark had a smart, but quiet, lawyer. This was bad because the lawyer was pretty smart. This was good because the lawyer was quiet enough to let Mark run his mouth, and from his confident manner he was going to give them something to go by.

"Okay." said Brass. "So Joe Hirshaw gave you money to scare Sam Braun."

Mark slouched back in his chair before answering. "I was meant to drug the woman, take a pic, then grab the kid, take another pic and babysit." He said.

Brass flipped a picture of Lindsey duct taped to the chair across the table. "Babysit?"

Mark smirked. "Yeah. Eighty thousand for both jobs. Shoulda asked him to pay cash up front to pay for my med bills where you guys shot me."

Brass resisted the urge to reach across the table and slap him. Catherine was tense behind the mirror and Grissom watched her carefully.

"So how did you grab Catherine?" Brass asked.

Mark looked up. "The woman?"

Brass pushed Catherine's picture across the table. "She has a name." he said, his voice icy.

"Joe gave me the ruphie, I slipped some in her drink, got her to the motel room. Even got her to pay with her own card, told motel guy she was outta it."

Catherine had her arms wrapped defensively round her body, Grissom began to suggest that she went but she shot him a look that told him not to go there.

"So you got her to the motel room." Stated Brass. "What happened next?"

Mark shrugged his shoulders. "Not a lot. I mean she was outta it pretty bad."

Brass toyed with the pen in his hands. "Nothing happened at all?"

Mark glanced at his lawyer. His lawyer put his hands up in defeat.

"I think you should tell them." said his lawyer. Brass stared at the two of them. The lawyer turned to face him. "If my client willingly and truthfully admits to what he did will you give him a shorter jail time?"

Brass shrugged. "Maybe," He then turned to Mark. "We know you have a record for sexual assault. How can a man like you resist a naked drugged woman?"

Mark smirked. "Well, I couldn't really. Had to get some otherwise I would be wasting the opportunity."

"Get some?" Brass asked, the disgust evident on his face.

Mark smirked. "I had a beer bottle with me and she was hot and naked. What else was I gonna do?"

"You raped her with the beer bottle?" Brass asked, his voice level but his eyes giving away everything.

"Yeah." said Mark. He smiled. "An' it was good."

Catherine ran out of observation. Grissom began to follow her before stopping - she wouldn't want to see him, would she? He watched blank faced as Brass ended the interrogation.

"What about my short sentence?" Mark asked as Brass began to leave the room.

"I promised nothing." Brass said as he turned and left.

Catherine sat in the toilet cubicle, her hands tracing over the wall of the cubicle. Twice in two days, this was becoming her second office. She heard Sara's voice outside. It was evident that Grissom had sent Sara in to get her, there was no way he was going in the ladies rooms.

"Catherine?" asked Sara, her voice hesitant.

Catherine sighed before getting up – Sara was going to be there all day if she didn't answer, plus she didn't really want the brunette getting worried. She budged the door open with her foot.

"Yeah, I'm here." She told Sara.

Sara looked relieved. "Grissom was worried about you." She said.

"You know me," said Catherine as she leaned against the sinks, "I'm just dandy."

Sara didn't believe her, but didn't ask any questions about what had happened. "You sure you don't want me to get your counsellor, what was her name?"

Catherine almost started laughing. "Trust me," she said, "that shrink is the last thing I need."

Sara shrugged. "Your choice," she said before walking out.

Catherine knew Sara must have seen the tear tracks down her face and the slight smudge of her mascara. She knew that it made her look weak, but she surprisingly found that she didn't care. She didn't care because she didn't care about anything anymore. Nothing. She splashed water over her face, dried off with a paper towel and then stepped into the bustling, busy corridor.

"Going somewhere?"

Catherine almost jumped, and she had her hand on her gun holster just in case. But she recognized the voice, and she took a deep breath to calm herself before turning round.

"Megan." She said, trying to make her voice sound surprised.

"Dr Grissom told me what happened." Megan said.

Catherine scowled. She was going to murder Grissom.

* * *

**Please review :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you to wendysam, connieLover and ShadowoftheblackrOsE. Thank you to oneofmany for adding this to favourite story, also to ShadowoftheblackrOsE for adding this to story alert and for adding me to her favourite authors :D**

* * *

She had managed to avoid having a session with Megan after Mark's confession because of a case, but Ecklie had called her and said he would remove her from field work if she didn't go see Megan.

Once again she sat in the cushy brown leather chair in Megan's office; but this time her eyes stared out of the window to the bright dancing lights of Las Vegas as Megan rattled off her rap sheet. _Kid of exotic dancer. Exotic dancer. CSI. Promotion. Assault. Promotion. Assault. Divorce. Mis-use of lab. Assault. Death. Rape with foreign object._

The words swirled in her head, as clear as day because she had run out of painkillers and the fog had rolled out to sea, taking her mind with it. The bright lights outside hurt her head and made her pull her knees to her chest tighter. As soon as she had sat in the chair she had kicked off her shoes, pulled out her pony tail and curled her knees to her chest - she didn't care how weak it made her look, she needed the comfort. Megan noticed this and wrote it down but Catherine still didn't care. Her body was her castle, her blonde hair the sea, just trailing on the tops of her shoulders, and her blue eyes were the sun - strong, fierce and proud.

"Are you listening?" a sunny voice asked her, dragging her from the realms of her world back to reality.

"No." she said. She didn't care about anything anymore, she just wanted to go home and see her daughter.

"Catherine." said the sunny voice, tiresome and weary, dripping with promise, yet Catherine still didn't turn to face her. "You need to tell me what happened, and how you felt." said Megan.

Catherine almost scoffed. Tell Megan what that bastard had done to her? Tell Megan that her memory had slowly come back throughout that day? Fat chance.

For some reason Megan could see right through her, right through the castle, the sea and the sun; right through to the memories.

"You remember." Said Megan. "Don't you."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement; a harsh, sharp statement.

Catherine was fed up, and figured if she told Megan what she remembered, then maybe she could go home.

"Throughout the day my memory came back." She said as she sat up straight. "I remember every god damn frickin thing."

"That's good." Said Megan.

Catherine wanted to slap her – good that her memory had come back? She was going to punch her.

"Good that I can remember exactly what it feels like to be raped?" Catherine said, pointedly.

"Good that you aren't fishing in the dark and your mind isn't making things up anymore. This is forcing you to face your fears." Megan said.

Catherine smiled sarcastically. "Yipeee." She said.

"How did it feel?" asked Megan.

Catherine turned sharply and allowed her blue eyes to bear fiercely into Megan. "That is one thing you will never know." She practically growled.

Megan shrugged but Catherine could see that Megan was confident that she would eventually learn what happened.

"What does it feel like knowing the truth?" Megan asked.

Catherine fidgeted a bit before answering. "Good I suppose."

"Really?" asked Megan.

"Yes." Said Catherine, her eyes glittering with anger. Why couldn't Megan just leave her the hell alone?

Megan opened her mouth to say something back but Catherine's cell phone beat her to it. Catherine flipped it opened and answered, then ended the call and turned to Megan.

"Rape case." She said scowling at Megan.

She walked out of the door got to the car and drove to the scene. She was almost in a daze as she processed the scene and victim, and she tried not to let the victim's statement process in her mind too much. They knew exactly who the bastard was and it seemed like a slam dunk case.

She couldn't help it; really, she had to read the victim's statement even though they had the guy because she felt the need to know what the guy had done. It didn't help her state of mind, as she burst through the doors of the guy's house with the rest of the team, gun drawn, ready to shoot the guy if he even moved an inch. She just felt that it was okay to shoot the guy after all the pain he had caused. It was only when she felt Jim's hand on her shoulder did she pull back.

"Take it easy." He had muttered to her.

"I can't Jim." She had barely whispered.

"Yes you can." He said as he lowered her gun. "Go home, see Lindsey."

She had nodded mutely and walked out, they had the guy and there was nothing else she could do.

She curled up on the sofa with Lindsey, a pint of Ben and Jerry's sitting in between them, a romantic comedy on the screen. She couldn't stop playing the night's events through her head. Did she really think that it was okay to shoot the guy? Sure, he was a bad guy and all, but did she really think it was okay to take a life?

Then again, that guy had taken a woman's life; and now that woman would be haunted forever and ever and ever. Just like Catherine.

The movie finished and Catherine told Lindsey to go to bed. They got into their pyjamas and brushed their teeth together; then Catherine broke out the scotch. The amber liquid swirled in her glass, her mind swirled in her head. Her hands toyed with her gun.

She knew now she was well and truly screwed. There is a fine line between thought and reality. She thought she was okay, but reality said she wasn't. It broke her heart to realise this, but she knew that she had to do this for Lindsey and everyone else around her. She couldn't get herself into a mess over every rape case. She tried to reassure herself as she made her decision. This wasn't for her, this was for Lindsey, this wasn't for her, it was for everyone else around her.

She stepped over the thin black line as she picked up her phone and dialled.

"Megan?"

* * *

**Please review :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you to Danielle, CSIHuntermom, ShadowoftheblackrOsE, jstapny and csi-kris for reviewing. Also to ShatteredIcePrincess for adding this story to alerts, to csi-kris for adding this story to favourites and to connielover for adding me to favourite author :)**

* * *

Catherine stepped into Megan's office, feeling unusually glad to see Megan's tall lithe figure sitting behind her desk. The smell of coffee had filled the room and the lights seemed to be dimmer than usual, hiding the prison like qualities of the room. She shut the door gently behind her, then stalked over to the two chairs and sat down in the one closest to the door, pressing her sweaty hands into the cool brown leather before pulling her knees to her chest. Megan handed her a cup of steaming coffee before she sat down in the chair opposite. There was no pen and paper this time.

"I just can't do this anymore." Catherine said, her voice sounding small and tired as she faced straight ahead.

"Can't do what?" Megan asked.

"Pretend that everything is alright," Catherine sighed, "pretend that I don't care, that I don't remember or feel his hands on me everywhere I go."

"That's understandable; you went through hell and you face things everyday that bring back memories. You don't have to be strong forever, you know, and you don't have to be strong for everyone else as well as yourself. Besides, nobody is strong enough to cope with everything." Megan said - her hands in her lap unusually still.

Catherine turned to face her. "It's just the things I see everyday remind me constantly of everything that happened, of the mistakes I made."

"You didn't make any mistakes." Megan reassured her.

"Really?" said Catherine. "Because where I stand it looks like I've made so many, many mistakes."

"Of course you are going to think that, and look back and see things you could have done differently, but you can't go back and change things, so there really is no point lingering on it."

Catherine looked up at her incredulously, "Of course you can say that," she said spitefully, "you never went through what I went through."

Megan leaned back in her chair and tucked her blonde hair behind her ears.

"Of course I will never know exactly how you felt, but I can hazard a guess." Said Megan. "I can guess that you're feeling fragile, and small, and completely utterly terrified."

Catherine smirked. "Got it in one."

"You try to hide your feelings behind a facade of sarcasm and spite. You parade yourself as better than everyone else because you think that it can hide your vulnerabilities."

Catherine rolled her eyes because she knew that Megan was right, and didn't want to accept it.

"I always hated this word everyone uses when they were talking about rape victims." Catherine said. "But now I realise they were right, violated completely sums up rape in one word. I just can't get over the fact that he used my body without my permission, and laughed and enjoyed it as he did."

Megan nodded. "I can see how you feel like that, and you are completely right too. Someone broke through your armour, someone that you didn't want to. I wonder how you feel about him. Are you glad about the jail sentence that he will get, or do you wish that it will go further?"

"I once thought that I could never wish death on anyone, but over the years that thought has kind of gone away. I desperately wanted the woman who killed Eddie and almost killed my daughter to suffer, but I don't really know if it ever reached death. I killed a man who was about to kill Grissom, and it never really sank in. I watched a man die once on death row and the experience terrified me. Right here, right now, I don't think I want the man who raped me to die. I just want him to be in jail for the rest of his miserable life."

"That seems like a justifiable statement. It also shows me that he might have affected your body and parts of your mind, but he didn't affect the thing closest to you – your heart." Said Megan, letting her eyes linger on Catherine's face.

Catherine stayed silent for a few minutes, slowly letting the words sink in. Eventually she nodded before wiping her eyes with her sleeve and sitting more upright in her chair, but still keeping her knees tucked to her chest.

"I just wish it would all go away." She said.

Megan's eyes met her own again as Megan told her, "It will never go away. Ever. You will remember it for the rest of your life, every time you go to have sex with someone, every time you apprehend a rapist and then there will be the random moments when you remember, even though you try to force your mind not to. You are going to be living with this the rest of your life and there is nothing you can do about it."

Catherine nodded slightly.

"There are going to be good days and there are going to be bad days. You just need to remember that he can never ever hurt you again; and that he didn't take everything from you. You are still in control of your life, not him."

Finally Catherine smiled. She understood everything Megan had said perfectly and it made so much more sense. It was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders and she was herself once more.

"Thank you," she said to Megan.

Megan smiled. "I'm here to help you, not to be your enemy." She said, "Just you remember that."

Catherine grabbed her hand bag and got up to go. She paused just before she slipped quietly through the door. "Thank you so much," she told Megan again. Megan just nodded and sipped her coffee as she watched Catherine slip through the door.

She knew that for a while now, everything would be better.

A week later Catherine sat on the sofa with Lindsey, a pint of Ben and Jerry's half baked in between them and the film 'In Her Shoes' playing on the TV. Everything was fine; in fact everything was good, very good.

Catherine still saw Megan about once every two weeks but had stopped taking aspirin and had almost stopped drinking. She even went out to the Highball a couple of times with Nick and everyone, and had enjoyed herself.

There were good days, and there were bad days; but Catherine knew that at the moment, she was fine.

And she hoped it was going to stay that way.

* * *

**So, this is the last chapter. I hope you have all enjoyed this and any suggestions for epilogues or extra chapters on this story are welcome - just no relapses, because I really get tired of those. Please review :)**


End file.
